


If We Walk Down This Road — We Might Not Come Back. (We Might, Beloved. We Will)

by xxELF21xx



Series: Be My Prince [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Robin: Son of Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - No Capes, Angst, Author loves to chat in the Comments, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Duke Thomas is a Godsend, Fluff, Gen, I wrote this on a whim and I created a monster, Jealous Damian Wayne, Jealous Jonathan Kent, M/M, NO CAPES, Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Past Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Protective Damian Wayne, The Batbros are Suffering, There was literally no plot for this????, more like a royal setting with no actual timeline, not edited we die like men, well not rly medieval
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-27 19:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: 'My mom said — she said that I am to be betrothed.'





	If We Walk Down This Road — We Might Not Come Back. (We Might, Beloved. We Will)

**Author's Note:**

> it's me, back at it again with some bullshit.
> 
> Non Beta'd, not edited (as of now).

There wasn't much a Prince could do in this day and age. 

Well, there were plenty of tasks and quests, but he wasn't deeply interested in the majority of them. 

 _Goodness, if Grayson could just hear how **bored** I am; he would've dragged me off along to the neighbouring kingdoms on his "Grand Tour". _Damian shook himself out of his thoughts, a shudder escaping him. Grayson's "Grand Tour" was just an elaborate scheme to get out of the Kingdom of Gotham — bypassing the Kingdom of Metropolis & Krypton, Coast Networks, Star and skirting the Island of Themyscira, towards the City of Central to meet with the King's nephew. 

'It's a terrible way to woo someone, don't you think?' Drake had asked when presented with the route of the Tour. Cain had looked unimpressed, thumping her fist onto the City of Central's location; her irritation towards Grayson's idiocy was clear in the clench of her jaw. Grayson merely smiled and patted her head, expertly deflecting a punch to his face. 

'Why do you think so, Baby Bird?' He cooed, ruffling Drake's nest of a hair. Drake's dull eyes traced across the map, his hands mechanically swatting the Crown Prince's hand, 'are you daft? There's  _clearly_ a shorter way towards Central City — yet you choose to go across the world before reaching Central?' A spark of annoyance draws forth in dark blue eyes. 

Drake knows best how to bluntly point out the flaws of the Royal Family, indeed. 

Grayson sighs, 'Wally, that is, Crown Prince Wallace  _won't_ let me court him!' Damian clears his throat sharply,  _'Wally?"_ Grayson flushes to the tips of his ears, ignoring a snort from Cain, 'that's his nickname, apparently,' he mutters. Damian tuts, shaking his head.

'I don't get it — why are you so adamant in courting Central's only prince?' Brown, Drake's servant and close confidant, draws close; her calloused hands ghosting over Grayson's arm in confusion and sympathy. Drake groans and slumps forward, hugging her close. 

Brown frowns. 'Your Highness,' she snaps, her fingers holding Drake's chin away from her skirt, 'would you  _please_ refrain from fainting at such a meeting? His Majesty has already warned me several times to stop assisting you in getting the caffeine you are so addicted to; it's not my fault that Your Highness got caught sneaking in jars upon jars of that nonsense into your chambers.' She flicks his forehead, 'now stop whining!'

Drake's eyes clear a little, but he clings to Brown's skirt regardless. 

Grayson groans, 'I don't know  _why_ I'm so attracted to him?' His light blue gaze falls upon a red cloth tied to his trousers. It wouldn't even take an idiot to guess that that piece of cloth belonged to West. 'It's just — he's the best thing my eyes have laid upon! And the way he so freely talks about travelling the world! And, and how kind and caring he is! Gods above, who  _wouldn't_ want to court him?!'

Instantaneously, the rest of them shout  _"me!"._

Gordon, the daughter of the Vassal Lord and the King's Advisor, whom had been initially silent, sighed. 'Your Royal Highness,' she warned, voice hard, 'just because my father is in charge of the military and is one of the King's most trusted men, doesn't mean that  _you_ can somehow manipulate me into convincing my father that your Tour should be approved. He is a Lord before he is His Majesty's servant. He  _knows_ how a Courting Tour should operate.' A pointed look is given to the crestfallen prince, halting any sweet words (most probably insincere) from Grayson's lips. 

'I really do love him,' Grayson admits after several beats of silence. 'Remember when we travelled to Central two years ago, Babs?' Gordon jerkily nods her head, lips down-turned. Two years ago, Grayson had ended their blossoming relationship; much to Father's disappointment. 'I met Wally under the guise of a servant from our court — we, uh, I  _think_ we had a bit of a relationship going on.'

Damian blinks. Well, then. It was no secret that Grayson didn't like how stuffy it was to be a prince — and he was the Crown Prince, no less. In his entire life as a prince, Grayson always found ways to disguise himself to sneak out of palace grounds. It failed spectacularly until Todd arrived under Father's care as Gotham's second prince. Todd had educated Grayson on how to dress down properly, as well as shown him several ways to get out of the palace. From then on, nobody could trace Grayson whenever he fled. 

Todd, however, could. But he would not give away anything. 'Why should I?' He'd argued, 'Dick wants an out; I gave him an out! I ain't gonna stab him in the back when he hasn't done jack to me!' Father didn't dare go any further than to persuade Todd for answers, in fear that Todd would run away. 

'You're telling me, that you managed to seduce Central's Crown Prince as a  _manservant?'_ Brown gasped, skirts swishing against the floor in shock. Grayson tried to protest, but Cain slapped a hand over his mouth, arching an eyebrow to keep him quiet. 'Your Royal Highness! What have you  _done?!'_  

A puzzled look sweeps across the Crown Prince's study. 

Brown pries Drake off of her, muttering and gesturing to herself. Finally, she calms. 'Tim, Tim, stop slouching; please.' Drake snaps at attention, posture alert.  _I didn't know that those two were **that** close. _'Your Royal Highness, have you not heard of the rumours surrounding Prince Wallace?'

Grayson shakes his head. 

'Oh dear,' Gordon sighs. Brown shakes her head, 'he's said to only be able to fall in love once every few moons, Dick! Do you know what that means?!' 

All colour bleeds out of Grayson's face. Damian stands up, startled, the chair screeching against the floor.

'West is still in love with the manservant.' 

Cain's collected stance caves in, and her upper body topples over. Wide, dark eyes look at their brother. 'Big brother —  **doomed.'**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The "Grand Tour" is rerouted to take six months instead of eighteen, and Gryason uses the other twelve to find a way to explain to West of their, ah —  _fling._

Damian watches with dread as the clock counts down with no progress on Grayson's end.

Todd, who's still in the midst of recovery in the al Ghuls' Lair, writes to them one fine day. 

**Seek Kara Zor-El in Metropolis-Krypton. She will help you. Tell her it's time she returned the favour.**

**Signed,**

**Jason.**

Father stares at the elegant penmanship all night long, unwilling to part with it, until Grayson threatened to abdicate his title as Crown Prince and flee with Koriand'r — Grayson's first love and closest confidant. The redhead princess was to stay in Gotham until her kingdom had fully recovered from the civil war, and Grayson was more than happy to host her.

Once news of Todd's activity was revealed, Grayson was torn between travelling to the al Ghuls' Lair and Metropolis-Krypton. 'Think about it — who means more to you?' Damian demanded during a Court Session, 'our brother, or a lover who's unwilling to listen?' Father had barked at him to apologise and take back his words, but Damian was too busy stewing in his anger to care. 

When the choice was made to go to Metropolis-Krypton, however, the Family of El was announced to have arrived at the gates of Gotham. 

Damian suppresses the thoughts of lovely nights with the youngest Prince of El. 'He probably forgot about me,' he mumbled dejectedly. 

Damian did  _not,_ however, expect Jonathan Samuel Kent to come bursting at him at full speed, knocking him towards the ground when they were prepared to greet each other. 

'Damian! Damian!' Jonathan grins up at him, cheeks sharp and jaw line stunning. Jonathan Kent had grown into a heartthrob. 

And Damian Wayne was once again, in love. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was a cool evening, the sun was about to disappear completely when Damian heard a knock on his window. Alert, Damian's fingers clenched tightly around his dagger. He walked swiftly over, drawing the curtains aside, and lashed ou—

'Damian!' Tumbling back, Damian breathed in sharply. Gorgeous blue eyes stared innocently at his weapon, and in his haste, he threw it away, flinching at the clang of metal against stone floor. 'What were you doing?' Dark lashes flicker slightly, as warm eyes study their surroundings. 

'Nothing, Kent.' He snapped, tension winding in his shoulders, 'you should know better than to approach the windows. There's a  _door.'_ Round cheeks are dusted a light pink as sky blue eyes avert his own emerald greens. 

'There were too many guards outside. I got scared.' A soft confession breezes into the room. Damian snorts, 'you, who is far more powerful than the best Knights in the world, whose bloodline is strong and admirable, whose family name was once but a great myth — you're  _afraid_ of some lowly guards?'

Jonathan's face bursts into colour. A whine escapes his throat, 'don't make fun of me!' Jonathan's voice raises, anxious. 'I'm not. I was just shocked.' A hurtful and teary glare is thrown his way. 

'You know what? Forget it. Good night, Damian,' Jonathan steps off the ledge, floating in the air like an ethereal god. Red cape fluttering like wings in the dying sunlight, catching the eyes of anything watching as it reflects hope and warmth, the House of El's crest emblazoned in gold and red on the upper right of the blue robes that were still slightly loose on the boy, gold buttons are polished and shining like stars while the silver aiguilettes sway in the breeze. Damian's breath catches, memorising how beautiful the sight was.  

Just as Jonthan was about to take off, Damian runs forward, jumping off of the window and landing onto the El's back. They drop several metres, but Damian pays no mind to that. 

'I'm sorry, Jonathan. Please, don't leave like that.' His friend pouts, the image ingrained in Damian's head, and sets them both inside Damian's bed chambers. 

As usual, Jonathan remains floating while Damian rests at the couch on the foot of his bed. 

There is a pregnant silence between them before Jonathan speaks. 

'My mom said — she said that I am to be betrothed.'

Immediately, Damian balks. 'What?!' He exclaims, heart thundering in his chest dangerously. 'To whom?' He demands. Jonathan's gaze tears up, 'Kathy.' A blonde girl with a cheerful smile fills Damian's head. The daughter of Smallville's Lord. 

'Congratulations,' he says icily. Jonathan's eyes stare at him in disbelief. 'Da— ' He continues forth, 'she's a good friend of yours, no? You would be most comfortable with her as your bride.' There are tears building up in his eyes, and Damian prays that Jonathan would not notice. 'I'm happy for you.'

'Are you really?' Jonathan asks, voice small. 'You know that I have no interest in her. I have  _you.'_

Damian feels as though he's choked. He looks at the raven, eyes roaming over the other's face. 'Jonathan.' There is more he wishes to say, but he can't find the words he needs. 

But Jonathan Kent, he was always the one that knew him best. And with a breath, Jonathan lands in front of Damian. 'I don't want to get betrothed to Kathy.'

 _I know,_ Damian closes his eyes and breathes.  _I am in love with you. I want to ask for your hand in marriage._ He leans forwards, capturing the younger boy in a hug.  _Can you wait for me?_

'I can,' Jonathan's muffled reply stirs joy in him, 'but I don't think there's time. I'm sorry.' 

Damian lets go, pushes the other boy away. 'Will your parents allow you to forfeit?' Jonathan shakes his head, 'dad's been wanting to claim Smallville for a while now, and I don't want to ruin the opportunity for him.'  _You won't give yourself the chance to wait. You lie._

'I see,' he replies, 'is there no other way?' Jonathan shrugs, 'marriage is the easiest way.'  _You always try to take the easy way out, Kent. Why? Is it to ease the difficulties that your elder brother puts onto your parents?_ 'I don't know why you've come to ask for my advice when it's clear you will not listen.' 

Tonight was a moonless night. 

'I'm tired, Jon. Goodnight.'

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Diamond eyes gaze at him. A hand reaches out to touch his face, but a hard glare has it retreating. 

'Why have you come, pray tell.' His own voice is smooth and clear, completely opposite of how he actually felt in the moment. 'Kara said that your brother called her here, and asked if either my brother or I would like to visit as well. Kon had to go to Central for a bit, though. So I decided to tag along. Mom and Dad wishes you well, by the way.'

Jonathan's voice has gotten lower. But still, the younger man's voice is higher than his own. 

'Thank them for me,' he replies. 'However, your cousin will not find Todd here — he's in the al Ghuls' Lair at the moment. My mother is put off by Father's recent treatement of Todd, and since he is injured from his last quest with Koriand'r and the idiot Prince  _Harper—'_ his teeth unintentionally grinds at the mere  _mention_ of why Todd was so heavily injured to begin with, '— Mother has decided to whisk him away to the Lair until he is fully recovered. However, according to Mother's letters, it might take. . .  _longer.'_  

He decides to omit the fact that Todd's condition had taken a skydive when they least expected it, and the recovery period has lengthened by another seven months. 

When he raises his head to look at Jonathan, he realises just how  _close_ they had gotten. Jonathan's breathing was loud to his ears, and his eyes had gotten sharper. But they were still warm. He had gotten more muscular as well, his limbs no longer like frail twigs. 

 _'Kent,'_ he warns, but Jonathan remains a statue mere milimetres away from him. 

'I can't read you anymore,' Jonathan breathes. 

Damian felt truly alone, in that intimate moment. 

 

+

 

'I heard Jon went to visit you after tackling you.' Drake chortles, 'how'd it go? The last time he was in your room, he  _ran_ out  _sobbing.'_

Damian ignores Drake, instead focusing on reading the text he was assigned to finish. A deep sigh resonates through the library, causing Damian's diminishing patience to vanish. He stands to shout at Drake, but is rudely interrupted by a firm hand on his forearm. 

He turns around, ready to sock the person in the eyes; warm brown eyes stare at him, unwavering. 'Damian, ignore Tim. He's just stirring trouble. C'mon, let's go elsewhere.' A firm tug from Thomas has Damian tumbling to follow the newest Prince of Gotham. 'Tim! I think Steph's looking for you; she sounded pretty angry. I think you should go look for her.' 

The sounds of a harried Prince ring in Damian's ears as Drake runs out of the library like a bat out of hell. A small twinge of satisfaction runs through him.

Damian allows the older man to drag him towards the windows, and be pushed to sit down onto a plush couch before he speaks. 'What do you want, Thomas?' The man in question shrugs, 'nothing. You just looked really uncomfortable.' Damian stares at the carpets, unwilling to talk more, but Thomas is more persuasive than anyone gives him credit for. 

'Why is Tim always antagonizing you so much, anyways? The both of you are always fighting each other. It's kinda harrowing to look at, to be honest.' Damian is ready to snap  _"then don't look!"_ but Thomas continues on, 'he cares for you a lot; you care for him a lot. Why not just, y'know, let go of all the grudges and just live? Even  _Jason_ knows you two are done being hateful with each other, and he isn't even here half the time.' He pauses for a bit.

'Hell, I've never even  _met_ the Second Prince of Gotham. All I've heard about him are from the maids, and the townspeople, and the merchants. You guys are lucky, y'know? The bond had already been formed by the time  _I_ joined.' Damian lifts his gaze towards Thomas, lips parted in disbelief.

Thomas smiles weakly at him, gesturing to their surroundings, 'you guys treat me good and all, make me feel comfortable and loved; but, there's always this— this sense of  _discomfort_ whenever someone  _new_ joins. There's been rumours out in the streets that you almost caused Tim to be disowned by the King, which is why he hates you so much.' 

Damian's eyes widen, 'that's  _treason,_ anyone who's ever said that should be  _hanged—_ Tim is as worthy as I am to sit on the throne. I might be the blood son, but he has had more experience! Who told you that, Thomas?! I need to— ' Damian realises too late that Thomas has a giant grin on his face, and he glares at the other man. 'You set me up.'

'I didn't. Those rumours exist. And so did many more: Jason attempting to kill Tim when he, ah,  _returned from the dead_  and found out that there was a new prince. They also said that Dick absolutely hated Jason's guts when Dick returned from the Province of Bludhaven after being harassed by paparazzi about a new son of Wayne. And then there's Cass. Apparently, the Court was in a frenzy when Cass was adopted. By the time I came around, everyone was so  _used_ to Bruce Wayne adopting kids that nobody really cared. Everyone was just happy to have another family member join.' 

Damian tuts, 'what about me?' Thomas raises his eyebrows, 'there isn't any other rumour about you. You're the Blood Son. The rightful heir to the throne. You're Damian  _Wayne._ There aren't any rumours regarding you, besides the one where you tried to killed Tim, because everyone else was trying to clamp down on them. Dick was willing to step down as Crown Prince for you, Jason made sure that the scholars and Knights knew that you had a right to be here, Tim had threatened the Lords and Barons with treason if they were unwilling to serve under you, Steph had the palace servants wrapped around her pinky; she made it so that only those who could tolerate you worked for you. The King, well, he made sure you fit in with the rest of us. He gave you the best tutors, made sure you knew how to communicate with the Earls, etcetera. To the whole kingdom; you're the second Golden Prince.'

He snorts, shifting in his seat, 'Me?  _Golden?_ I'm an al Ghul as well. There's nothing shiny about me. If anyone should take the title, it would be Todd.' 

Thomas laughs, 'hey, now. I never mentioned who the  _first_ Golden Prince was.' Damian's eyes turn into slits, 'explain yourself.' 

'You didn't know?  _Jason_ was the one who was bestowed the title. Crown Prince Richard Grayson and Golden Prince Jason Todd. That ring a bell?' Damian shakes his head. Thomas stares at him, eyes wide, 'just how  _much_ of the towns people's papers do you read?!' 

'Why would I read such useless news?' Damian asks, confused. His brother groans. 'Try reading those more. Apparently, good monarchs must learn of what the people are saying.' Damian nods, adding that to his mental list of things to do. 

As they leave the library and head toward their respective bed chambers, Damian bids Thomas a goodbye. 'You realise, that the King is also your father?' Thomas blinks, startled. 'Ah,' he laughs, embarrassed, 'old habits die hard; I guess.' 

Damian doesn't think Duke Thomas is accustomed to the palace just yet. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

A feast was prepared to welcome the two Royals from the Kingdom of Metropolis & Krypton that night. Father had spared his children of grace and mercy by forcing every single Wayne to be in attendance — which meant that Damian had no time or chance to escape.

'Why are you sighing, Your Highness?' Colin asks, preparing his attire for the night. Damian looks toward his friend, studying the curious expression on his face, 'I dislike feasts, and dances, and balls, and galas, and — '

'Anything that has  _social interaction_ written in the fine print.' Colin interrupts, 'I know that, Sire. But why do you look so  _beaten?_ This is but a feast to welcome the young Prince and Princess of El, is it not?' The servant moves to tidy the wardrobe, sifting through clothes to find something suitable just in case the first outfit is ruined. 'Besides, isn't the young Prince your friend?' 

He stiffens. 'Who? Kent?' Colin pauses in his raid, turning around with a confused expression. 'Y-yes, Prince Jonathan Kent of El. Am I. . . wrong?' He tilts his head slightly, 'Your Highness?' Damian's head pounds painfully. 

Are they friends anymore? 

Colin looks on, worry evident in his form. Damian smiles good-naturedly, 'I don't think we are friends anymore.' 

He hasn't seen Colin look so sad in ages.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The feast, as expected, is about as interesting and fun as a funeral. There is light chatter between the Metropolitans — that was the name they called themselves, right? Or was it Kryptonians? Even though the two kingdoms have merged, the names of the people have not yet been confirmed. It frustrated him to no end — and the Gothamites. Grayson and Danvers sat side by side, huddled close together as they worked on the  _"Get Wally to Realise that Grayson is the Manservant"_ plan. 

There seemed to be great progress, from the looks on their faces. 

Damian looks on, looking for a familiar blond ponytail. However, not many blonds are present wearing the House of El's crest. He frowns, was the Prince's bride-to-be not invited alongside the Prince? He glances at Colin, who stood with the other servants on the opposite end of the hall, and made a gesture. Colin arrived in an instant, a question on his lips.

'Help me get out of here. I'm done.' Colin gave him a look of disappointment, 'it's barely been an hour, my Lord.' A look of alarm crosses the redhead's face when he notices a figure in blue and red approaching them steadfastly. 'Colin. This is an order. Get me out.' On impulse, Colin bows and holds out a hand. Damian takes it swiftly, pressing his index finger into Colin's palm.  _Urgently._ The servant wastes no time, guiding him towards the doors.

They pass Jonathan, and with a quick bow, they make it out. 

'My liege,' there's an edge in his friend's voice. 'What? Are you trying to use every term possible in Court?' He jokes, increasing his pace. They must be back in the West Wing before Jonathan follows forth. Damian is not certain how much Jonathan's powers have grown, and he isn't going to risk it.  _'My liege,'_ Colin cries out, pushing him out of the way as a beam of red comes crashing towards them. 

Immediately, Colin draws his weapon against their assailant. 'Whoever you are, reveal yourself. For attempting to harm a Prince of Gotham, you are to pay with your life.' Pools of black leak out from Colin, dripping from him like a candle. Damian stands up, jaw clenched. 

He knew that beam. He's had to train it since young. 

'Colin, stand down,' Colin looks at him as if he were mad.  _I know him. It's alright. I will deal with it._ Reluctantly, Colin withdraws. The blackness seeps back.  _Go to my bed chambers and wait,_ his breathing slows.  _Until I shout, do not come out._ He squares his shoulders. 

Colin runs. 

Their attacker tries to give chase, but Damian blocks him before it can happen. With only a small dagger strapped to his back, Damian moves to immobilise Jonathan. 

'Jon Kent!' He growls, holding the Kryptonite-laced dagger at eye level. 'What were you thinking?!' The red cape flutters innocently in the small breeze. A resentful red gaze pins him in place. 'You attacked my servant. I could break friendly ties over that.'

Jonathan doesn't stop glaring at him. Sweat prickles at Damian's forehead as the heated gaze doesn't give up. The shadows cast by the many archs in the palace make Jonathan look like some sort of childish villain. Damian's grip on him tightens, and he presses the dagger onto the younger prince's neck. 'What. Were. You. Doing.' 

'He can read you.' Jonathan bites out, red bleeding into tired blue. The hold on the half-Kryptonian slackens, poisonous green eyes widen to meet sickly blue.  _'What,'_ there's a tremor in the Gothamite's stance; much like a wire pulled too taut, ready to snap. 

With a strength he hadn't shown since appearing in his father's Court, Damian lifts Jonathan up by the neck, he tests the limits of his strengths by squeezing the prince's neck.  _He is a half-breed. It would be easy to kill him. He is already weak. Do your worst._ There's a wild, primal panic that unfurls in Jonathan — he thrashes against the hold, hands clawing at the ex-assassin's arm. Damian throws Jonathan into the pillar, being mindful not to break it. 

'What's it to you, if my servant can read me; Son of Krypton?' Damian represses childish memories of discovering Jonathan's powers. Jonathan wheezes, trying to catch his breath. The sizzling prick of anger rises in the pits of his stomach. 

If Colin did not push him aside, he might have lost his life. 

'You tried to kill me!' 

'You know I could never hurt you!' Jonathan shot back, chest heaving. The bright yellow and red crest of the House of El mocks Damian. Damian had once wanted to wear the Crest, alongside with his own Crests. 'You know I could never — ' The boy sniffs, tears slipping out from his eyes. 

Jonathan was an ugly crier. 

'Forget it.' He stood; but before Damian could request for him to stay, the Kryptonian flew off. 

Even in the moonless night, Jonathan Kent looked like an untouchable god. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next few days were hectic for the Crown Prince's Chambers — everyone was too busy running back and forth between rooms, gathering miscellaneous items at the Prince's whim, to notice Damian's arrival. 

'It seems as though Your Highness has arrived at the wrong time,' Row greeted. Damian released a breath he'd been holding, noting how utterly  _tired_ the poor maid was. 'Can I be of assistance until His Royal Highness is fit to greet you?' He shakes his head, reluctant to pressure Row anymore than she could handle. 

He should've brought Colin. 'It's alright, Row. I'm not here to look for Grayson. Is the Princess of El here?' Row gives him a raised eyebrow, clearly surprised, but nods and gestures for him to follow. 

They walk through the corridors of the Chambers, and it is then that Damian notices how messy the place is. 'What's happened in the Chambers?' He speeds up to walk beside Row. The girl sighs, 'it would appear that His Highness is in a frenzy. The Princess' wisdom seems to limited and, frankly, unorthodox. He hasn't shared with me the full details; should I report to you once he has?' 

'It's fine, I have no business in his love life. Just keep him sane and happy, Row.' The maid bows, a fatigued smile on her pale face. 'Get more rest as well.'

They don't talk for the rest of the journey. 

Row bids him a farewell as he enters the Guest Chambers that houses Kara Zor-El. 'If there is anything else, please do call.' Damian chuckles and encourages her to take a break. He is sure that she wouldn't follow his words. 

The Princess is about as intimidating as her uncle, the King of Metropolis-Krypton. With the sun shining bright, she looks like a fiery angel with the grace of a merciless warrior. Blonde hair illuminated by the light, she asks jovially: 'Damian! Finally come for a visit?' He snorts, flopping down onto a sofa and allowing the cushions to engulf him. 'You do not behave like how you look; typical.' She laughs, loud and carefree, a teasing look in her eyes. 

'Does it really matter? As long as I'm happy, I'm healthy — no?' This stirs an unwanted image in his head. How pale and sickly Jonathan had looked the night of the feast. Kara Zor-El, for all she is wise, senses his change in mood. 'You've seen him lately, huh?' He nods jerkily, 'he does not seem as radiant and well as when we first greeted you.' She floats from her position on the window to sit next to him, her face in a healthy glow. 'He. . . I guess he's got his heart broken? He won't tell me, the foolish boy.'

Damian raises an eyebrow. 'Heartbreak? Who broke his heart? His betrothed?' He wishes to slap himself for his runny mouth. Drake had yet to train him out of that. The Princess barks out a shocked laugh. 'Betrothed? Oh, Jon isn't betrothed, silly! He didn't tell you? The betrothment was scrapped when it was found that the Lord of Smallville tried to assassinate the Queen!' Startled, Damian sits up right, 'is she alright?!' 

She waves her hand, 'Lois is a fighter — you know that. Because of the attempted assassination, Smallville was required to submit to the Kingdom or else they'd face the threat of war. Smallville surrendered immediately, and Kathy was never allowed near the Royal Family again. I haven't seen her since Jon's last visit to Gotham!' Dazed, Damian tries to collect himself. He opens his mouth but no words escape it. 

After a brief moment, he speaks, 'I see.' She chuckles, pinching his cheeks. 'You're still pretty terrible with comforting words, Your Highness. However, I do hope you provide some sort of comfort for the poor boy — he'd came back from the feast a sobbing mess. He won't budge no matter how hard I try to get him to talk.'

Damian sees the sharp, predatory, gleam in her wicked blue eyes. He sighs, 'I will try.' She grins, face glowing, 'thanks! Oh! Did you know that Jon — ' A shriek that sounded distinctively like Grayson when he was stressed cuts through the air, causing the Kyrptonian to run out the door. 

'Thanks for stopping by, Damian!'

 

 

* * *

 

 

He knocks three times on the heavy wood doors, hoping that there would be no answer.

Lady Luck, it would seem, hated Damian. 

The door swung open to reveal a disheveled Jonathan, eye bags prominent on a sheet white face. 

'You look like the dead,' Damian deadpans. Jonathan snorts, stumbling backwards to create a path for entrance.

'You look hot,' Jonathan replies evenly. Damian stares at him, bright green eyes amused. 'Wait — wait, no.' Jonathan scrambles for words, 'Damian,  _no.'_

As if Damian would let the chance to tease Jonathan fly by. 

Lifting the collar of Jonathan's night shirt, Damian tugs on it lightly; as if testing for its durability. Once satisfied, he smooths is out, running his hands along lean muscles. Jonathan turns beet red, causing the Wayne to smile in glee. 'Jonathan,' he admonishes, 'I didn't know you found me  _attractive.'_ The boy continues to stutter, reminding him of a puppy. 

Blue eyes glaze over with tears as Jonathan laments, 'I  _always_ found you attractive!' Damian raises an eyebrow. This game is fun. Jonathan clamps up, flushing even redder. 

'Really, now? I'm honestly flattered, Jonathan. Thank you.' He scraps away any indecent thoughts he may have had of the blue-eyed beauty, choosing instead to focus on the fact that Jonathan looked  _very good_ in green. 

He allows the boy to silently express his anger, rubbing small circles into the pale boy's wrist. 'I'm sorry for chasing you out of my room. And being an ass to you. And ignoring you. And threatening to cut ties with your kingdom.' He murmurs softly, the gap between them basically nonexistent as Damian rests his head against the boy's shoulder. Jonathan releases a shaky exhale, body trembling. 'I'm sorry for getting jealous about Kathy. I heard the betrothal got called off.'

'Idiot Prince,' Kent mutters. 'I'm sorry for trying to attack your servant and getting jealous about him being close to you.' He confesses, cheeks still red. 

Damian laughs softly, 'we are such idiots; aren't we?' 

He doesn't allow time for an answer, pressing his lips lightly against Jonthan's. A hand slaps his chest, but Jonathan kisses him back twice as hard. 

Things should be alright, now.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

'I don't get  _why_ you're so hung up about that fling you had with that servant from Gotham,' Leonard exclaims, waving a hand hysterically in Wally's face, 'you've got the  _Crown Prince of Gotham_ asking for your hand in marriage and you  _turned him down_ for someone you won't ever see again!' 

Wally looks disinterestedly at the man, bored green eyes flickering towards his books. 'But I  _love_ Richie! If I could find him, then — '

'But you  _can't_ find him. Richie John  _doesn't_ exist,' Hartley cuts him off, 'your uncle confirmed it with King Wayne: there was never a servant in his Court under the name "Richie". Give it up, Kid.' Wally looks at both men with a great sadness, and the two give each other looks of sympathy and pain.  _Good luck trying go get Wally married, Barry,_ they sigh. 

The door creaks open, revealing Hal Jordan from the Kingdom of Oa. The brunet holds an envelope in hand, grinning madly. 'Hold your horses, Rogues — Richie John just sent a letter.'

Wally scrambles to his feet, haphazardly running towards his uncle's best friend (and probable lover?). He tears into the letter with fragility, soaking up the words on apple-scented paper. The curls and loops of dark blue ink mesmerise him. 

**Dearest Love,**

**I'm returning for you.**

**Richie**

**Author's Note:**

> What the fuCK did I just write????


End file.
